


A Song of Smoke and Shells: The Great War

by Rhydian_Storm



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhydian_Storm/pseuds/Rhydian_Storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1914 in Westeros sees the beginning of the bloodiest civil war in its history. A war between Lannisters and Targaryens that sees the 7 Westerosi regions divided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea I had in my head for an AU.  
> Ratings and constructive critisim welcomed.

June 23 1916 AC

18 miles east of Stony Sept, No man's Land

Lieutenant Jon Snow, Royal Army, 17th Winterfell Regiment.

_To my Dearest Lyarra,_

_It is unnerving. For weeks now, we've sat in trenches doing nothing but waiting. Every few minutes a shell will drop and men just like me, better than me die. Occasionally a stray bullet will murder another. I have long been wondering if it is worth it, the war I mean. We went to war on a whim, the men say and I fear they are right. Morale falls after every journey 'over the top'. I pray that you are well and safe, as I have heard of Baratheon advances near Tumbleton._

_Write back to me soon,_

_Your loving and affectionate brother_

_Jon_

As soon as Jon finished with the letter, another shell exploded. This one close by. Another wave of shouts. Another wave of the dead. More young lads to die and be buried in mass nameless graves.

"Lannister's over the top!" A soldier called out. In the next seconds, it was as though all activity stopped. All the troops in the trench ran to their stations. Machine gunners, riflemen, snipers. Jon grabbed his rifle, a short-magazine Wildfire rifle, standard army issue. He was given it by a sergeant, right before the man bled out.

The royalist blackcoats began firing at the massive cloud of Lannister redcoats, charging at their positions, shouting and cheering. The black stahlhelms with crescents on top took shots for the charging men's heads, some saved, other's shot clean through. The rattling of the machine guns filled the bombed out fields with Lannister dead.

Jon aimed. Shot. Killed. Again and again. The whistling of mortar shells sounded up above.

"Bayonets!" Jon cried. Quickly the men drew their blades and fastened them to the end of their rifles.

"Planes!" Rhydian called out. They were fucked. There was no time to take cover and, if they did, they wouldn't stand a chance against the infantry, no matter how many they mowed down. A wave of explosions rang out through the entire position. But they were not just explosions. In place of the explosions, a thick mist of sorts. Jon had heard of similar attacks north, near Acorn Hall. Gas attacks, they called them. 

Before the gas flooded Jon's vision, he looked at the approaching redcoats one more time. 

His vision was blurred with gas then and he began coughing. He felt a blunt pain in his stomach, doubling him over, and heard the shouting of Lannister men. Another pain erupted in his back. Another hit with a rifle. He felt two sets of arms grip him as he was losing conciousness. He heard shots being fired and whistles blown. He heard fighting, shouting, bayonet clashes. Explosions from grenades. He looked up at a silhouette in red. The silhouette pointed a pistol at Jon and fired. Once. Twice. Thrice. All in the same place, near his heart. The soldiers let him drop and Jon grunted out in pain, trying to stand back up. A foot was pressed to his back, holding him in place, and another bullet implanted itself within Jon's back.

After one final struggle, Jon let the darkness sweep over him.

Jon fell limp and let the darkness take him.


	2. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own ASOIAF. This is all written for fun.

20 July 1914 AC

King's Landing, The Empire of Westeros.

Lieutenant Jon Snow, Imperial Army, 17th Winterfell Regiment

Jon walked down the street to the Red King's Square. Soldiers of The Imperial army, uniformed in black and equipped with rifles, patrolled the streets. It seemed as if the entire country was just waiting for war. Waiting for a spark.

Jon had only become an officer a few months ago. Now it seems that he would soon taste war. Shame too since His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Aegon VI Targaryen was only crowned in May. The Lannister's tried to crown Viserys as emperor around the same time with the excuse of Viserys being more suitable. Viserys married Margaery Tyrell, daughter of governor Tyrell, securing The Reach for himself. The Lannister's came with the promise of power. The North, The Vale, The Riverlands, Dorne-all had declared for the Targaryens.

There were already recruitment posters on walls and posts and boards, Heralds spoke to crowds, asking them to fight off the scourge and traitors.

Jon himself was walking home to see his sister, Lyarra. They had lived together for two years in King's Landing now, ever since Jon and Lyarra left Winterfell because of Governess Catelyn Stark's hate for them.

Jon walked into his apartment, immediately greeted by the smell of dinner. Lyarra walked out of the kitchen and kissed Jon on the cheek.

Lyarra was a rare beauty, with long black curls past her shoulders, steel grey eyes, a perfect heart-shaped face, perfect lips and a defined feminine form.

"Dinner's almost ready." His sister told him before continuing, "So. Is it war?"

"Not yet Lya. Though I suppose it might as well be. Apparently, The Tyrells have mobilised and the Lannister's are preparing." Jon said.

"You're...you're not going, are you Jon?" Lyarra asked, even though she knew it was a stupid question.

"I must. It is my duty." Jon said, pulling Lya into a hug, which she returned.

Jon kissed her forehead softly, "Do not worry, sweet sister, I will be back before you know it."

"Men die in war Jon. I am not ready to see you die." Lyarra told him, tears in her eyes.

"It is not yet time, Lya. Let us not think anymore about this." Jon replied.

Jon changed clothes in his room and sat at the kitchen table. Lyarra put down a plate of dinner, fried chicken goujons and potatoes. Jon ate it all in silence. Lyarra left the room, coming back dressed in a white cotton night gown, complimenting her curves in a subtle way. As he went to his room, Lyarra tugged at his hand.

"Jon, I..don't know how much time we have together, how long you'll be here. So please Jon," Lyarra's voice was pained, "Please, just stay with me."

Jon followed Lyarra to her room. She sat on her bed, pulling Jon with her. She looked into his eyes, grey on grey. Slowly she leaned closer, until she fell into his warm embrace. He held her there as she drifted to sleep. When she did, he lay down next to her, arm around Lya. He let himself sleep with thoughts of his twin.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

21 July 1914 AC

King's Landing, The Empire of Westeros.

Lieutenant Jon Snow, Imperial Army, 17th Winterfell Regiment

Jon woke the next day, before Lyarra and quickly got dressed in his uniform. Cap in hand, Jon grabbed an apple from the kitchen and quietly left the house.

The streets were already full of soldiers, patrolling, training, chatting. The barracks were overflowing, all of them. Jon himself needed to report to Colonel Aurane Waters, his higher-up. He was on Visenya's Hill. Or was it Rhaenys'? Jon chose the former. It was closer, after all, three streets down and through Aerys' park. Jon got to Visenya's Hill and smiled inwardly at his choice when he saw the colonel's silver-gold hair.

"Colonel Waters" Jon greeted with a salute. Aurane was older than Jon, by a few years, and was considered handsome with silver-gold hair and sea green eyes.

"Lieutenant Snow" The colonel returned the salute, "At ease Lieutenant" Jon relaxed.

"I've come by your summons sir." Jon said. Aurane looked confused but then broke out into a grin.

"Right." The colonel whistled to some soldier, who jogged up to him.

The soldier saluted, "Sir"

"Corporal Jackson, get me Sergeant Storm." Colonel Waters told the man who, at this point, was legging it to wherever this Sergeant Storm was.

"Colonel?" Jon asked.

"Oh, right. Lieutenant. I asked you here to tell you to prepare. We're marching soon, as soon as war is officially declared." Waters explained.

"Officially?" Jon asked confused.

"Yes Lieutenant. There have been skirmishes at the new 'borders' between our two sides." Aurane said borders with a distaste.

"Colonel Waters, Lieutenant Snow, sirs!" A soldier stood at attention. By his uniform insignia, Jon could see that he was a sergeant. The man himself looked inhumanely beautiful, in a masculine way, and had silver-goldish hair. Like the colonel, the man also had sea green eyes. Other than the eyes and gold in his hair, the man looked like the emperor himself.

"Lieutenant Jon Snow, this is Sergeant Rhydian Storm, your new sergeant and my dear dear nephew." Aurane explained. So Jon would get a lieutenant, after all. He had worried he would have the burden of platoon command all to himself. It was nice to know someone would share it.

Jon held out his hand for the man to shake. Rhydian took it.

"It's an honour sir." Storm said.

"The pleasure is mine sergeant." Jon said.

"If you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." The colonel said before walking off, presumably to torture some other poor sod.

"Nephew?" Jon asked.

"I suppose I should be offended that Rane did not inform you." Rhydian said with a smile.

"How's the platoon looking?" Jon asked.

"They're definitely prepared sir. And battle-hungry. Though I fear the day we actually go into combat." Rhydian replied, seriously, all traces of humour gone from his handsome features.

"Weapons clean, bayonets sharp, magazines loaded."

"Good, sergeant." Jon said, "Keep them on edge. We'll march any day now."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

27 July 1914 AC

King's Landing, The Empire of Westeros.

Lieutenant Jon Snow, Imperial Army, 17th Winterfell Regiment

Jon had spent the last week getting acquainted with his sergeant and platoon, as well as spending his last days of peace with Lyarra. But tensions rose even higher, with execution of Aegon's supporters in Lannisport , Casterly Rock, Highgarden and many other Viseryan cities. There were strikes and civilian marches in the capitol, as well as soldiers and what remained of the police rounding up Viserys' supporters and putting them in The Black Jail, the worst prison in the entirety of the empire. Some violent ones were even hung.

The emperor and his generals even led a troop inspection yesterday.

There was news of the Northern armies, under Field-Marshal Eddard Stark himself, marching south, as well as Valemen armies, under Field-Marshal Denys Arryn, near Rosby. Field-Marshal Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully had already set up defensive positions all along The Redfork south of Riverrun.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

28 July 1914 AC

King's Landing, The Empire of Westeros.

Lieutenant Jon Snow, Imperial Army, 17th Winterfell Regiment

"Write to me as often as you can or I swear by The Old Gods and The New that I will kill you, if the war doesn't take you first." There were tears in Lyarra's eyes, "Please Jon, try to stay safe."

"I will. Promise." Jon enveloped Lya in a hug. His own tears threatening to spill. It was only the fact that he had to be with his men that kept them from spilling, "I love you sweet sister, remember that." 

"I love you too dear brother" Lya replied and gave him a peck on the lips, "For good luck. Good-" She tried, but Jon cut her off.

"Do not say goodbye Lya. We'll see each other again soon." He said.

"Alright. I'll be waiting." Lyarra replied with a smile. With that, Jon left his home.

Churchbells began ringing, the shouting and cheering of people just nearly drowning them out. Jon was slowly pushing past the massive crowd. A few trucks slowly trudged their way past the kingslanders too.

A man rode through the crowd as well, shouting. Jon paid attention as the man neared.

"WAR HAS BEEN DECLARED BETWEEN THE TRAITORS OF CASTERLY ROCK AND OUR EMPIRE!!" It had been the announcement everyone was waiting for.

Jon increased his pace as he began to see troops marching in lines down the main street of King's Landing, rifles and packs on their backs, black Adrian helmets on their heads. Every ten rifleman rows would see one machinegunner row.

Jon made it to his battalion's position, only to see them formed up and ready for march. Colonel Waters turned to Jon, both men exchanging salutes.

"Colonel, is it true? They have announced it to the people?" Jon asked. The colonel replied only with a simple nod.

Jon went to his platoon.

"Sergeant" Jon greeted Rhydian.

"Lieutenant" Sergeant Storm greeted back.

"The platoon is ready to march sir." Storm told Snow.

"Good." Jon said. The colonel's march command came and Jon, like the other battalion lieutenants echoed the command.

Soon, the battalion joined the other's marching from the city, under streamers, cheering and jolly trumpet playing.

Marching to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel absolutely free to point out any inaccuracies with military equipment, ranks etc.


	3. Jon II - The First Battle near Pinkmaiden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing except the OCs. This is written for fun.
> 
> The first battle Jon participates in. 
> 
> Armies:
> 
> Viserian (Lannister, Tyrell) (320000) under the command of General Damion Lannister  
> Imperial (Riverlander, Northern, Crownlandian) (600000 spread out) under the command of Field-Marshal Tully and General Jonothor Darry.

13 August 1914 AC

4 miles south of Pinkmaiden, The Red Fork

Lieutenant Jon Snow, Imperial Army, 17th Winterfell Regiment.

After nearly two weeks of marching and friendly banter, the imperial troops made it to Pinkmaiden. Pinkmaiden was a nice-looking town, or was supposed to be, as some of the buildings were turned to rubble from bombings. There were troops everywhere, assembling, helmets polished. Jon saw some of his men nervously glance at two soldiers using a stretcher to carry a screaming, bloody man quickly to whichever building served as a hospital. 

"It was a nice town once, for fuck's sake" Rhydian said angrily, looking at a ruined building, "Fucking had nice ale here"

"It ain't the last town that'll get destroyed in this war" Jon said, as he kept looking around.

"I know that. It's just sad..." Rhydian said.

They kept marching until they reached the rest of the battalion's position. 

"Keep the men here. I'll talk to the Colonel about our next orders." Jon said as he walked on, hearing his Sergeant give out orders.

Jon asked a passing soldier about the Colonel's location, who had according to the soldier, been at some house. Jon found it without much difficulty, mainly because it was three houses down from where he asked. Colonel Aurane stood over a table with a map laid over it. He was talking to the Major about  
"Colonel" Jon saluted as he approached the Velaryon man. The Major left with a salute.

"Lieutenant. I can only presume that you are here to receive your orders?" Aurane said in a questioning tone.

"Yes sir" Jon replied. The Colonel gestured towards the map. Jon looked at it, seeing arrows and circles of two colours, as well as a red line across the length of the river. 

"Here," Aurane pointed to a bit of land, "Four miles west of this specific position. Our division's postion. There are divisions positioned up to six miles west and six east. The riverlanders have four divisions here. The other's are either further up north or back near Harrenhal." 

"Why are they near Harrenhal?" Jon asked, remembering the large ruined fortress, still being used as a military encampment.

"They're grouping up their armies for counter-invasion." Aurane told him.

"What about our army-groups?" Jon asked, curious and a bit confused by the Riverlander movements.

"Army-group 'Drogon' is already in Tumbleton, ready to attack the Stormlanders. Army-group Viserion is moving onto The Reach. Our Army-group is near Acorn Hall, last I heard." Waters explained, "You, Lieutenant, will position your men right in the centre of the battalion's position, dig in and defend that position. You move out in an hour."

"Yes sir" Jon said and left, saluting a final time.

Jon made his way back to his Sergeant and platoon.

"Did the Colonel give any immediate orders sir?" Rhydian asked. Jon gave a stiff nod and Rhydian frowned.

"The battalion is moving four miles south." Jon said.

"All right boys! Move out!" Jon called out to the platoon.

The men marched for four miles to the designated location. They marched past lines of other blackcoats, digging trenches and setting up defensive positions with no gaps in between them. If you looked south of the postion, you could see artillery positions on the hill.

"Here" Jon held up his hand, stopping the march, "I want a trench dug up here, connecting it with those two" Jon pointed out two other trenches of his fellow Battalion Lieutenants, being slowly dug up.

An echo of yes sirs had the men put down their rifles and reach for their entrenching spades and start digging. Jon took out his own spade and walked over to where Rhydian was beginning to shovel dirt to the side. 

"Don't dig straight trenches. Try to make them have bends." Jon ordered, remembering what he was taught. If a trench was straight, a stray shell could very well rip up an entire platoon.

Many hours of digging and merciless summer heat, Jon's platoon had dug enough to be able to stand completely straight and not get killed. The men were resting after a hard day's work, smoking, chatting.  
Jon stood next to Rhydian, on the ground above the trench, looking down at the newly dug position.

"Rhydian, can you get me our machinegunners?" Jon asked, already looking at the positions he wanted them posted. Rhydian quickly jumped into the trench and walked somewhere. He returned with two tall muscular men with their machine guns on their shoulders. Both saluted with their free hand and straightened. Jon returned the gesture. Jon started to walk over to one of the square bends of the trench, gesturing for the men to follow him. 

Jon pointed to the square bend.

"This is your new position Private" Jon said to one of the two machine gunners. He then walked over to the other square bend and said the same for the other gunner.

Jon had done all of his required preparation, so he just sat down on the ground in the trench and pulled out a bit of card from his pack, as well as a fountain pen.

_Dear Lyarra,_

_I have arrived at the front. So far, I have not seen battle though I can feel its approach. My men have been growing restless for weeks now. Pinkmaiden, a rather used-to-be beautiful town a few miles north, has been evacuated and fortified and I fear that in the end, it will be left a shot-out ruin. My new sergeant has proven to be pleasant company and eager to be as good a sergeant as can be. It's honestly quite endearing, kind of like Jory used to be with father. I hope all is well with you and that you not worry about me. I imagine that Edward will try to propose to you again, if he has not enlisted. I imagine that you'll just keep rejecting him._

_Write to me soon,_

_Your brother at the front,_

_Jon_

Jon put his things back into his pack.

"Who were you writing to, if you don't mind me asking?" Rhydian asked as he sat down next to Jon. He looked at the sergeant.

"My sister." Jon replied. Rhydian nodded in understanding, "What about you? No one to write to?" 

"My uncle is here. My father is Admiral of the Imperial Fleet. I don't think he'd even want to receive my letters anyway, his bastard." Rhydian said bitterly.

"And your mother?" Jon asked.

"Dead." Rhydian replied simply.

"I'm sorry" Jon said, meaning the words. 

"Don't be. She left me early anyway. Grew up with my uncle." Rhydian explained, "Enough about me though, we were talking about your sister" He grinned.

"Well, she's my twin, so naturally she's beautiful, smart and talented and funny. We lived together for a few years after I got kicked out of Winterfell and went to the Officer's Academy. There's this suitor, keeps coming by, trying to win her affections with gifts. Yeah he's rich, but he's also a complete asshole." Jon told him. Rhydian cracked a smile.

An APS messenger interrupted their conversation. Jon handed him the letter after putting it into an envelope and writing the house address on it.

"Where the fuck are the Lannisters?" One man, Private Cedric Klee asked, cigarette in his mouth.

"Dunno', maybe they ran off to their litl' king when they 'erd us comin'." Another, a Private Frank Brown, replied. Why the fuck would you say that? It's literally fore-shadowing whenever the Lannisters attack.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

16 August 1914 AC

4 miles south of Pinkmaiden, The Red Fork

Lieutenant Jon Snow, Imperial Army, 17th Winterfell Regiment.

It had been quiet for three days now. But that would soon come to an end, as scouts reported enemy activity

Jon had his Direwolf Mk.2 Revolver, painted white and nicknamed 'Ghost', ready. The Mk.3 was the standard issue pistol for commissioned army officers. The Mk.2 was rare, but it was brilliant, albeit expensive. Jon got his as a gift from his half-brother Robb Stark, the son of Governer Stark, upon completing his officer training. 

There was a whistling in the air and Jon's heart almost stopped.

"Down!" He cried as his men got down. The shell exploded in the trench nearby and Jon saw the ripped up corpses fly up into the air, screaming. Jon resisted the urge to puke as around three others did. Multiple other shells exploded around them, sending dirt and corpses in the air. It was quiet again. One of Jon's men peeked out of the trench. Ding. The man fell limply back into the trench, dropping his rifle, with a bullet hole in his cheek and another in his helmet. Shit. A look of fear passed through the man nearby. 

Jon heard whistles and cheers, and soon he felt the ground tremble.

"Firing positions men!" Jon yelled, picking up the dead man's rifle and took his ammo clips. He heard Rhydian repeat his command to others. The machine-gunners set up their heavy Dragonfire machine guns and started operating them by loading them in with ammo disks. 

The riflemen, crouched and prone, were firing at the mass of redcoats approaching the river. Another of Jon's platoon went down. And another after that. Finally the Dragonfire machine guns started their song of death, mowing down redcoats where they stood. Other trenches around Jon's seemed to follow his example.

Jon looked onto the mass of Lannister troops and aimed generally in their direction. He fired off a shot, bolted it, fired again. It was like a reflex, as Jon himself was full of adrenaline, firing and firing. Killing and killing.

The Lannister troops made it to the river, raising rifles high and fording it slowly. This let the Imperials gun them down, turning the river red, to give truth to its name.

Jon loaded another clip into the rifle and aimed. He heard a man of his cry out as he died, and shot. Again.

The Lannister's had made it across the river, still managing to rather bravely charge, despite their massive losses. 

Jon heard his fellow officers blow whistles. Shit. Fuck. What are they doing? He heard Rhydian ask that out loud. His men quickly fastened bayonets

Jon dropped the rifle and picked up a bayonet. He blew the whistle and drew his revolver. His platoon joined the rest the army's charge, jumping out of the trench. Immediately, four of his platoon were dropped dead.

They charged. Men literally dropped on all sides of Jon, screaming, blood in the air. Some of it found its way on Jon's uniform and face. More Lannister men found their way across the river.

They were ten. Nine meters. Eight. Seven...Six...Five...Four...Three...Two...One. The man in front of Jon was stabbed right through the stomach. Jon aimed Ghost right at the Lannister...and shot, hitting the man right in the head. He dropped dead. Holy shit. Jon was shocked, but his adrenaline didn't let him stop. The rest of the lines smashed into each other, violently screaming, fighting, shooting.

Another man tried to smash Jon's face with his rifle butt. Jon dodged the attack to the left, letting another blackcoat attack. The blackcoat fell dead a few seconds later from being overwhelmed by three redcoats. Jon shot again, killing one of them. Another tried to run past him. His mistake. Jon stabbed him in the back of the head. He pulled out the bayonet, now bloodied. And his reflexes parried another attacker's strike. His attacker kept trying to stab Jon, forcing the Lieutenant to move back slowly. His attacker died soon after, Rhydian having stabbed him in the ribs with the bayoneted rifle. Jon nodded his thanks and moved on to the next soldier, another with his back to Jon. Jon cut his throat, dropping the redcoat with a scream. Jon saw that the redcoats were slowly being overwhelmed. Artillery fire hit the other river bank, preventing Lannister reinforcements crossing. 

Jon shot another man in his gut. And another right into his heart. He heard cheers then. Jon looked back from the redcoated corpse to the fight, seeing mass retreat from the Lannister side and the triumphant blackcoats. The ones on the Imperial-controlled bank raised both hands up in surrender, dropping weapons. Few tried to cross the river back, but those who did were killed off and had their corpses float downstream.

Four platoons were chosen to march the prisoners behind the front line, and after the battle, depending on the result, either march them to Pinkmaiden or wherever the retreat would go. 

Jon looked at the littered corpses on the riverbank all around, red and blackcoats alike and felt his stomach churn inside, wanting to release the rations Jon had for breakfast back out of him. His face paled considerably. 

The entire left flank of the Pinkmaiden defending army fell back to their defensive positions. The other flanks must've still been fighting. They awaited the Lieutenant-General's orders on their next division movement's...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel absolutely free to point out historical mistakes in equipment, military rank, etc.


	4. Edric I - Operation "Young Dragon" Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The invasion of Dorne by Tyrell army group "Hunter" headed by Field-Marshal Randyll Tarly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own ASOIAF. This is written purely for fun.

30 August 1914 AC

Starfall, Dorne, The Empire of Westeros.

Lieutenant-General Edric Dayne, 1st Dornish Rifle Corps, Imperial Army.

The City Hall went up in flames. They were losing, Edric knew this from four days ago, when the Tyrell artillery bombed the still sleeping city of Starfall. The attack took everyone by surprise, as none had expected the Tyrells to attack so quickly and with such force. Two divisions had been sent away to evacuate and escort surviving civilians to Sandstone. The other 12 garrison divisions of Starfall were quickly assembled for a fight. However, the attack left the men separated around the city no...ruins. Guns of every caliber had fired and destroyed most of the buildings in Starfall, leaving only the unimportant buildings. The Tyrell infantry moved in after, picking off soldier groups one-by-one.

Ned was trying to regroup what was left of his corps and the city's defenders, managing to regroup some of the men into Sections for improved city house-to-house fighting. Ned himself was fighting alongside his troops, rifle in hand, formed into three strike Companies in the centre of the city, just barely managing to hold off the masses of Tyrell troops attacking their positions.

Their position was fortified by using rubble to build up walls with machinegun nests and rifle positions elevated, but also defended. The bombed out buildings had been used as more rifle positions. Their position also had four mortars, two 7.5cm Howitzer guns and six 10mm Howitzers, three of which couldn't be used as they lacked the men skilled to use them. They couldn't hide the guns from plane reconnaissance and wouldn't be able to hide them in case of attack.

Ned looked up at the largest point of the city, the Palestone Sword Tower. It was a massive white stone tower, built back in the middle ages and restored multiple times. That would be a good artillery-spotting point for the few remaining artillery batteries on the red mountains around Starfall.

Ned found Brigadier-General Daemon Sand in one of the houses.

"Sand" Ned said as a form of greeting. The other general gave a slight nod in return. Daemon had a bloody shoulder from a bullet, one that hit him half an hour ago, when he met up with Ned's men.

"You see that tower." Ned pointed to the Palestone, "There, we can have a spotter, blow the fuckers out of their holes and rendezvous with whoever is left."

"We've got barely enough men as it is." Daemon prostested.

"If this works, we can hit them hard enough to maybe even beat them back." Ned explained.

"And if it doesn't, we would lose the necessary men for the defence of this position." Daemon snapped.

"Forty men, that's all I need." Ned said. Daemon gave up.

"Fine. Fucking do it." Daemon said.

Ned left their position to assemble a unit. Not many wanted to go, but they also had not wanted to stay, so Ned assembled a unit in around 30 minutes. The men were shot-at, battered, wounded, some were half-mad.

"All right, move out!" Ned called and the men unslung their rifles, quickly rushing over the barrier. Ned slid down, the stones rattling behind him. The men took cover around corners and half-blown out buildings.

Ned peeked out. The street was a few hundred metres long, with a large building at the end. It was the perfect position for an ambush, Ned noted. Ned lifted his hand in a few gestures, meaning that they would go in 2 columns, sticking to the walls, or what was left of them.

The street was quiet, except for the clattering of their boots and the sounds of battle from far away.

They stopped at the corner.

"You five" Ned gestured to five men, "Check that building" The men legged it past the corner and across the street to the building. They entered, disappearing inside.

The street around the corner was exactly the same as the last. The Palestone should be on the next left and ahead. He sent a few men to the buildings on his right.

They moved again, forward, next to the buildings, stopping again. They should be able to see the square.

Ned ordered men forward again, towards the square.

A shot was heard. And the man fell in a bloody heap. No. No.

Suddenly, the street lit up with gunfire from all sides. The square, the buildings on the side. From behind. The men all fell around him, it seemed, as Ned dropped prone to the ground.

There was a pain in his side and Ned crawled slowly to the building to the left.

Upon making it there, Ned used the nearby remains of wooden table to stand. He growled from the pain, it making him savage.

Ned pulled out his pistol, the Viper 1911, a comfortable, cheap and good handgun. He had dropped his rifle in the attack. Ned leaned back against a wall. He heard a couple voices coming his way from the room in front of him. He raised his gun, gripping it so hard it shook. Two Tyrell soldiers came out in their green and light yellowish uniform.

Bang. Bang. Bang. The first man had no chance. The second, cursing, managed to get back and hide. Ned slowly put one foot forward, then the other, moving to the half ruined doorway.

He moved in his gun swinging around to his right scanning the room quickly. The Tyrell soldier drove the bayonet of his rifle into Ned's ribs, making Ned hiss in pain. Ned held the rifle by the muzzle, keeping the Tyrell man's weapon inaccessible. He put his gun up and shot. The man staggered backwards, letting Ned unload another few shots into the soldier. Ned pulled the rifle from his ribs with another hiss.

Ned changed the clip on his gun. He searched the bodies for alcohol, not finding it and flinching when he moved forwards, further into the building.

He entered some sort of dining room, throwing caution to the wind because...well, fuck it. He was dead anyway.

'Shit' Ned thought as he saw the bodies of his five men, throats cut, eyes lifeless. There was a Tyrell corpse in the corner but nothing else. So either, the men were outnumbered or simply taken by surprise.

Ned bent down carefully at the end of the room and passed through to another room, one with a staircase. There were windows and gaps in the wall too, looking right out at the square. Ned went low, crouching down and slowly moving to the wall near the staircase. He looked up carefully, assessing the upper floor.

Ned trailed upstairs carefully.

The top floor was half-gone and Ned had to crawl to avoid being seen by men outside. He saw another staircase and heard a few voices. Ned decided to listen in:

"How long do we have to stay in this fuckin' dump" One said.

"I don't know. But the 4th and 7th armies have already surrounded the city. Won't be long now." Another said. They were surrounded? But the battery. Shit, it was pointless, all of it pointless. The men died for no reason, they would all die for no reason.

Ned stood up against the wall. The men were in the next room and he only registered two voices. Ned swung around, half-entering the room, gun pointed at one of the soldiers, and shot. Once, twice. The man died. The other had no time to draw his weapon before Ned shot him too. He was an officer, Ned saw by his uniform, but it didn't matter. He fell as quickly as the first.

Ned advanced to check their bodies when he heard gurgling. He turned to look at the officer, who was trying hard to say something.

"Mmm-eeerr-ccyyy" The officer rasped, spitting blood.

Ned sighed before putting a shot in the officer's head. Ned knelt, no longer feeling the pain of his wounds due to the adrenaline taking over, and looted the officer for his pistol clips.

He checked his gun, it had 6 shots left. 'Enough' thought Ned. He walked up another staircase, this one creaking terribly. The third floor seemed to be infested with Tyrell troops, as Ned noted at least 6 around the floor as he lay against a wall near right next to the stairs.

Ned waited. He peeked carefully, so no one could see him. Two of them were talking, another was standing before a destroyed doorway. The other three must've gone to another room. Ned went back to his cover. He saw a brick lying near him. Picking it up, Ned already figured out where he would throw it.

He threw it down the stairs, attracting the attention of his enemies.

"The fuck. Do you think it was Flowers?" One asked.

"Check it out then mate" Another said. Ned heard footsteps nearing him and soon enough, the soldier passed by and went down the stairs. He pointed the gun and shot the man right in the temple, blowing off half his head. The fucker rolled down the stairs.

"Shit!" One shouted. Ned took this as them distracted and stood, gun raised. He shot the closer soldier in the throat, making him fall choking. The other was quick and raised his rifle in time to shoot Ned. Ned stumbled back and shot. Missed. Another shot. Hit. The man fell backwards into the gap behind him and down, screaming.

The three others ran in. Ned's reflex let him turn and shoot the closest. The others tried to shoot but were gunned down. 'Wait' Ned thought, 'I didn't shoot'

Ned turned to where the shots must've come from, the blocked doorway.

"Halt!" Ned aimed the gun at the speaker, a woman in Imperial Dornish uniform. She was blonde, with blue eyes and white skin. She was very beautiful.

"Stop. I'm on your side." Ned called out. The woman raised her brow.

"Identify yourself" She said and her two fellows raised their weapons.

"Edric Dayne, Lieutenant-General of the 1st Dornish Rilfe Corps, Imperial Army." Ned said.

"How'd that work out for you?" The woman asked.

"Who are you?" Ned asked, not lowering the gun.

"Tyene Sand, Major of the 2nd All women's rifle Battalion, 4th Dornish Imperial Army" The woman, Tyene, said.

"Is there anyone else?" Ned asked. Tyene shook her head.

"All the other's died." She replied, before looking him up and down, "You're wounded."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious" Ned flinched when she touched the wound on his ribs.

She gestured for him to follow her. They walked into the room that the three supposedly stayed in. There were two mattresses on the floor, some cans, a chair and a machinegun.

"Sit" She told him. The adrenaline was wearing off so every movement hurt.

"Keep watch" She ordered the other two men.

Tyene picked up a pair of tweesers.

"Undo your shirt." She said and Ned unbuttoned the tunic with Tyene's help, "This is going to hurt a bit" And she plunged the tweezers in. Ned bit down on his lips to stop himself from screaming.

She pulled the bullet out and plunged the tweezers in for the second. Ned's conciousness was beginning to waver from the blood loss and the pain. She pulled it out. She then went for the bullet in his shoulder, pulling it out easily as it had not been in deep.

"Stay still" Tyene told him softly. She took out a flask, opened it and poured. Ned bit down so hard he bit right through the lip, tasting the blood in his mouth. It burned so much. Once she was finished and put the flask away, she ripped a bit of fabric from her skirt and tied it around Ned's body, where his wounds were, from left shoulder to lower right stomach. He fingers brushing Ned's skin gave a cool sensation in the Dornish heat. When she tightened it, Ned flinched.

"Thank you." He said. Tyene gave him a smile.

"Where were you and your men headed?" Tyene asked.

"The Palestone. It's a good position for an art-spotter." Ned explained.

"You would be right. There are ton's of Tyrell troops near the tower and in the square." Tyene said.

"Well yeah, but I had fucktons of troops too" Ned replied, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Tyene asked as Ned started to walk out of the room.

"To finish the job"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda imagine Starfall to be like Antwerp or Verdun. Just full on ruined by shells and explosions of all kinds.

**Author's Note:**

> There. Sorry that this is a bit short, the next will definitely be longer.


End file.
